


Bills & Birthdays

by JJK



Series: Imperfections and Misconceptions - Aux [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Neglect, Shoplifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJK/pseuds/JJK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Anonymous asked for: Modern AU focusing on Eponine, Gavroche and Azelma. Bonus points if Eponine made it to college.</i><br/>=<br/>As it turned out, trying to support two younger siblings on a part time bartending wage was damn near impossible...especially when birthdays were involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bills & Birthdays

Eponine thanked the representative from the gas company and hung up, placing the phone carefully on the kitchen table next to the bills and a scrap of paper which bore a loosely worked-out budget. She struck a line through the total, but couldn’t bring herself to write down what remained. It wouldn’t do to see it on paper. Her fingers drummed absently on the table as she thought, the movement disguising their shaking. She desperately needed a cigarette but she was down to her last pack and, judging by the slip of paper before her, it was going to be a while before she could afford some more. As it turned out, trying to support two younger siblings on a part time bartending wage was damn near impossible.

She didn’t know where their parents were. It had been over a week since they graced home with their presence. _Probably arrested again,_ she scowled, slumping forwards, propping her elbow on the table and lowering her chin to rest in her palm. _Or on the run, or just too fucking drunk to remember they_ have _children_. All she did know was that they’d failed to pay the gas bill for the last two months, and that, no, the boiler hadn’t broken – they’d instead been cut off by the gas company.  


After a night spent shivering despite the multiple blankets and the fact that they’d all piled into the same bed to keep warm, she’d rung them up and used the last of her money to pay off the bill and bring the boiler back online. Money she had been saving for Gavroche’s birthday present. He was turning ten and she’d been saving for a Nintendo DS; he deserved something decent for reaching double figures. But now here she was, staring down the barrel at Gavroche’s birthday with no present and no money to buy him one.  


“Morning,” Azelma grumbled, padding into the kitchen; swathed in a blanket which dragged on the floor behind her.  


Eponine bolted up and gathered the papers together, sweeping them off the table. Azelma didn’t need to see them, she didn’t need to worry.  


“Morning,” she replied through a yawn. “There’s no food,” she was forced to admit as Azelma opened the fridge.  


She shrugged, apparently not really expecting to have found any.  


“We’ll get something on the way to school.”  


“Okay,” Azelma mumbled, closing the fridge and pulling the blanket back up from where it had slipped down her shoulder slightly. Dark smudges of exhaustion marked her eyes and her hair was ratty and mussed from being pressed against a pillow.  


“Boiler’s working again, though – if you want a shower.” Eponine stood up and nudged into her, with a grin on her face.  


“’kay,” she yawned, too sleepy to retaliate, instead standing in the kitchen lost in a sleepy state of confusion.  


Eponine just chuckled.  


=  


Breakfast consisted of croissants picked up at the little Tesco Metro on the corner of main road, a packet of eight for a pound, which wasn’t bad. Gavroche dutifully waited around for his portion before bounding off. He called out a goodbye, which was distorted beyond recognition through a mouthful of pastry, to which Eponine responded with a lazy wave. He was the only one who ever seemed to have any energy in the morning, but rather than inspiring her, it seemed only to wear her out more. She watched him race down the road with a pained smile.  


She and Azelma parted ways not long after; Azelma leaving her for a group of friends they met just down the road. She did at least hang around long enough for Eponine to explain that she’d be home late that evening.  


“Seeing _Feuilly_ again,” Azelma teased, with a huge grin plastered over her face.  


Eponine’s brow dropped into a scowl. As little sisters were wont to do, Azelma had not stopped pestering her ever since she’d made the mistake of introducing him.  


“No.” she retorted, mildly annoyed. He was working. “I’m going to pick up Gav’s birthday present.” 

Which led to the revelation that Azelma hadn’t bought him anything either. And that no, she didn’t have any money to put towards one.  


“I thought you were taking charge of that?” she beamed, before skipping off with her with friends.  


“Great,” Eponine exhaled deeply, repositioning the shoulder strap of her bag and continuing towards school.  


The sky was clear, a bright pale, wintery blue that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was supposed to be April, it was supposed to be warm, but it felt only a few degrees above freezing. She could see her breath billow before her, which only reminded her how much she needed a cigarette.  


Her fingers began drumming on her shoulder strap. What was she going to do? She couldn’t pick up another shift that evening, the roster was full and she’d begged too many shifts in recent weeks as it was. Besides, even if she could – when would that leave time to buy a present? Gav’s birthday was _tomorrow_. The worst thing was that Gavroche would understand that she hadn’t managed to buy him anything. He’d shrug it off with a smile and tell her it was no big deal. Probably add that birthdays were a commercialised means of reinforcing capitalist interests and that he didn’t care anyway – seriously, the things he came out with sometimes now that he’d starting _stalking_ Courfeyrac and practically worshipping Bahorel. But he was ten, for crying out loud, he shouldn’t have to understand waking up on his birthday without a present.  


=  


She managed to wrangle a few cigarettes from Grantaire, thanks to a bet involving tiddlywinks and a severe miscalculation on his part of just how hung-over he actually was, which was greatly alleviating her stress as she hurried towards the town centre. The day had dragged on, and Courfeyrac had kept asking her the strangest questions. He was planning something and she hated to think what. She hadn’t even managed to see Feuilly for more than a few stolen minutes between classes. And on top of all that she’d been faced with the growing realisation of what she had to do. She’d analysed the problem from every angle and couldn’t see any other way around it.  


Eponine wasn’t proud of her plan - okay maybe she was a little. She grinned around her cigarette, feeling a little like a secret agent. But still, she would have preferred not to shoplift Gav’s birthday present. She felt it tainted the sentiment slightly.  


She finished the cigarette with a final drag before flicking into a bin by the entrance to the department store and taking a deep breath to brace herself. She pulled a branded shopping bag out from her school bag – borrowed from a slightly confused Cossette who’d been carrying her sheet music in it –slipped her jacket inside it and stepped inside.  


It was all bright lights and solid, plastic flooring that clacked under her boots. She maundered with a practised attitude of carelessness, browsing the racks for suitable pieces. Shoplifting a DS would be damn near impossible, but she’d figured out a way to get around it that problem. A couple of years ago, before she’d been able to find a steady job and when food had been truly scarce, she’d stumbled upon a lifesaving realisation: if you can’t shoplift what you need, steal something easier and return it for store credit – or if you were really lucky actual cash. It had worked three times for her in the past, and she was hoping, praying to every god she could think of, that it would work this time.  


Eventually she found a perfectly overpriced, frilly dress and picked up a few long, brightly coloured cardigans for good measure.  


The changing room assistant smiled politely at her, counted the items and showed her to a curtained booth at the end of the short corridor. Eponine wasted no time dropping her bag to the floor and hanging up the items of overpriced clothing. The dress really was a hideous thing, all strange polyester material and sickening ruffles. But the stretch in the fabric allowed her to gently tear at the hole around where the security tag had been pinned through, expanding it ever so slightly and then stretch the dress around the tag. The hideous ruffles hid the hole perfectly.  


With her heart hammering wildly in her chest she slipped the tag under the stool in the corner of the booth, placed the dress in the shopping bag and hung her own jacket on the now empty hanger to make up the numbers.  


She took a deep breath and caught her reflection in the mirror, hoping she didn’t look as guilty as she felt.  


“Any good?” the assistant asked, with a bland smile, running her hand through the hangers to count – yes, four items.  


Eponine returned a cool, “no thanks,” before fleeing the changing room.  


Relatively speaking, that had been the easy part.  


Already her fingers were shaking, drumming against her thigh as she swept back around the shop, replacing the cardigans. Pretending to drop one of them, she crouched down and carefully slipped her jacket off a hanger, folding it over her arm once she straightened. Dusting down her trousers, she collected her bags and marched over to the Customer Services desk with as much confidence and assurance as she could muster.  


“I’d like to return this,” she smiled, placing Cosette’s carrier bag on the desk. “It was a gift,” she explained, before the assistant could ask. “So I don’t have a receipt. Bit silly, really,” she went on, leaning her hip against the counter. “Buying someone clothes without asking their size, and then not keeping the receipt. I suppose I should be flattered, really, that it’s two sizes too small,”  


The assistant just smiled, taking the dress from the bag and scanning the label.  


“I can only offer you store credit, will that be alright?”  


Eponine pretended to think for a moment before agreeing. Her pulse still racing and her nerves were frayed. She needed a cigarette.  


“Yeah, that’s fine.”  


“Alright then,” the cashier loaded a gift card with the correct amount, typing away madly on the system. Eponine was sure something was going to flash up and state that the dress had never left the store. “There you are, have a nice day.” Apparently not.  


Eponine took the card and forced a steady smile as relief washed over her.  


“Thanks.”  


Phase Two complete. Now for operation: Buy Gav a Nintendo.  


She scurried from the desk and hopped onto the escalator to ride down to the basement level. There was a very good reason why she’d chosen this shop; not only did it sell overpriced frilly dresses, but downstairs they had an electronics department that currently had DS consoles at half price.  


Thankfully no security guards came flooding from secret doors as she used the gift card to buy a DS and a few games; she even managed to fit in a roll of wrapping paper for the price.  


Once outside she pushed the handle of the bag up to her elbow and dug her cigarettes and lighter from her pocket, hurrying away from the shop and collapsing on a bench at the other end of the row of shops. She sat for a few moments, just smoking and ignoring the glares of passing shoppers, as she let the relief wash over her. She began to laugh.  


=  


Eponine caught the bus home, feeling extravagant, and was more than a little surprised to see Feuilly sitting on the floor by her front door. He was buried in a book, but when he heard footsteps he flicked his eyes up, looking like an alert rabbit, or a meerkat.  


“Hi! What are you doing here?” she was unable to mask her joy at seeing him.  


“Power failure at work. They sent us all home,” he grinned. She didn’t understand why he’d be so happy about that until he added, “still getting paid though.”  


“You should have texted, I’d have come home sooner,” she told him, unlocking the door and taking her bags to her bedroom. Feuilly followed, taking off his hat and shaking out his hair.  


Very few of her friends had seen where she lived. It really wasn’t much, four small rooms of minimal ratty furniture, paint cracked and peeling from many of the walls. Since none of them hardly ever spent any time at home anyway, they’d turned the ‘lounge’ into her and Azelmas’ room and given Gavroche the tiny second bedroom. They never went in their parent’s room, which remained a brooding closed door at the end of the hallway. The flat was generally gloomy, only using the lights if it was really too dark to see otherwise. Given a choice between heating and lighting, Eponine went with heating every time. Compared to some of the fucking _palaces_ her friends lived, in it paled in comparison. No, it was better that they didn’t see. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed, but she thought they might be and they shouldn’t have to feel bad for having what she didn’t.  


“Phone died,” Feuilly shrugged, dropping onto the bed and grinning that adorably crooked smile of his. The mattress sagged underneath him, old springs groaning. There was a reason she preferred spending the night at his whenever possible, and that was one of a very long list. “What did you buy?”  


“Present for Gav.”  


“Let’s see?”  


She handed him the bag, before turning to her wardrobe, split between her and Azelma, and began to get changed. The sixth form ‘business smart’ dress code was the bane of her life.  


“Fucking hell, ‘Ponine, how did you afford all of this?”  


She dragged her shirt over her head without bothering to undo the buttons and threw it into the wash pile, which was growing ever larger. She added a trip to the Laundromat to her ever-growing mental list of things to budget for.  


“I told you, I’ve been saving for months.”  


“But I thought you said that went on the gas bill?”  


Fuck. Why did Feuilly have to be the one guy who actually listened to what she prattled on about? She didn’t know how to answer; she somehow doubted Feuilly would approve of shoplifting.  


“Some of it,” she said as truthfully as possible, throwing on a large knitted sweater and swapping her almost acceptable tight dark trousers for leggings.  


She could see Feuilly’s cocked eyebrow reflected in the little mirror inside the wardrobe door.  


“Don’t give me that look,” she snapped. “I did what I had to, alright.”  


“What does that mean?”  


She spun around, snatched the bag back from Feuilly and stowed in the bottom of the wardrobe.  


“It means, Gavroche gets to be an almost ordinary ten year old and enjoy what every other kid out there gets to. It means he doesn’t have to be disappointed when I wake him up tomorrow morning empty-handed.”  


“It means you stole it?” Feuilly hazarded.  


Eponine glared at him for a second before snapping. “Yes. Okay? I fucking stole it.”  


He faltered, something unreadable spreading across his face. “Eponine,”  


“No. Okay, you don’t get to judge me.” She slammed the wardrobe door shut forcefully, rattling the structure. She thought she heard something break inside.  


“You can’t –”  


“Apparently I can,” she retorted. Sometimes she was so goddamn good at it; watching out for security cameras and guards, outsmarting the shop assistants, pulling some sleight of hand to hide smaller items. Okay, so she knew it was stupid, and wrong, but _fucking hell_. Sometimes she didn’t have a choice.  


“People worked to make that, stealing it’s…”  


“Yeah, right. A robot made this. And please, it’s not like Nintendo don’t have enough money anyway. And I thought you were all for bringing down the capitalist regime,” she retorted, trying to keep things light-hearted. She couldn’t deal with another argument right now.  


“By shoplifting?”  


“No,” she snapped. “You _don’t_ get to judge me.” Her eyes blazed with anger as she took half a step towards him.  


“And what about Gavroche?” Feuilly retorted. “I know how much you hate whatever it is your parents do. How do you think he’s going to feel knowing his birthday present was stolen?” he hissed, kneeling up on the bed.  


She took a step back, laughing. A white hot rage was building inside of her.  


“You know what? I don’t need to explain myself to you.” She began to move to the kitchen, before changing her mind and turning back to him, eyes blazing.  


“No. Fuck that. I thought you’d understand.”  


“Understand _stealing_?”  


“ _Understand_ that I am stretched so thin. That even though I work every free hour I get, I don’t always have the money for things that I need. Okay, maybe this was a little extravagant, but Gavroche is ten years old for fucks sake. He deserves a birthday present, and a good one to boot. I thought you’d understand –”  


“Because I work three jobs and still end up without two pennies to rub together? Yeah, I get that, ‘Ponine, I really do. But that is no justification for stealing! If I can’t afford something, I don’t buy it.”  


“Well I’m sorry that not all of us get to be so high and mighty as you,” she spat at him, before storming off to the kitchen where she threw her hands down on the counter and stared out of the small window, her breath sharp and ragged.  


To hell with him. She didn’t need to justify herself to anybody. One day she’d graduate from high school, if was lucky she was going to get herself through university, and she’d get a decent enough job to let her pay for the things she needed to keep Gavroche, Azelma and herself afloat. But right now that was out of the question, and if the only way to stop them from sinking was to steal? Then too-fucking-right that was what she was going to do.  


“Eponine,” Feuilly said quietly, hovering in the kitchen door way.  


“Please go,” she said, without looking up. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”  


“’Ponine,”  


“Go!” she shrieked.  


When she heard the front close press shut, she let out a little whimper and tried not to feel disappointed.  


=  


“Happy Birthday to you,” Eponine sang, entering Gavroche’s room armed with a bag of presents. Her eyes were still bleary from sleep and her throat a little hoarse. Azelma traipsed behind, wrapped in her blanket and looking like death warmed up. As bad as Eponine felt in the mornings, at least she could console herself that Azelma always seemed to feel worse. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Gavroche,” she strung out the last syllable. “Happy birthday to yooooooooou-ah.”  


He beamed at her.  


“Happy birthday, buddy,” she said, handing over the bag. He scrambled out of the sheets, eyes wide.  


“For me?”  


“Yeah!” she laughed, ruffling his hair.  


He crossed his legs underneath him and ripped off the paper. She didn’t think his smile could have grown any wider, but she was wrong. He looked up at her, eyes big and for the moment guileless. For once he was an ordinary ten year old. He blinked, grin still plastered from ear to ear as he scrambled forwards to pull her into a rib-crushing hug.  


“Alright, alright,” she laughed, trying to pull free.  


“Thank you,” he breathed, clinging for a few moments longer, before breaking away to rip the DS from his box.  


“Happy birthday,” Azelma mumbled, throwing Gavroche a smile, before standing up and retreating from the room. Eponine watched her go, torn. Ordinarily she would have followed, but she couldn’t indulge in Azelma’s self-pity today, not when it was Gav’s birthday.  


She watched him rip open the selection of games she’d managed to buy, his grin widening each time, with a small swelling of pride in her chest.  
Her breath caught, however, when Gavroche pulled out a small square package which looked like it had been wrapped in printer paper. That wasn’t from her, it wasn’t from Azelma. Had her parents actually left something for Gavroche? She’d known better than to expect them to make a surprise return in time for his birthday. She doubted they knew how old any of them were, let alone when their birthdays actually were. But here was…it couldn’t be.  


Gavroche ripped open the paper with the same eagerness as before to reveal a second hand copy of _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_.The spine was bent from repeated readings and the corners were slightly dog-eared. Her parents would never have bought Gavroche a _book_ , so who was this from?  


“It’s from Feuilly,” Gavroche grinned up at her, answering her question before she’d thought to phrase it.  


Feuilly? She reflexively brought up a hand to hide her gaping mouth.  


“Ha.” Gavroche grinned, reading from a slip of paper which had been slotted behind the front cover. “Says it was his favourite book when he was my age. Awesome; it’s about sea monsters and robot submarines!” he told her, but her head was spinning too much for it to sink in. Feuilly had thought to get Gavroche a present? More than that, he’d still decided it to leave here even after she’d kicked him out. Something unfamiliar churned in her chest.  


“You’ll have to thank him,” she remembered to tell Gavroche.  


“Hell yeah! This is awesome,”  


“Gav,” she reprimanded. “ _Language_. Now come on – we’ve still got to get to school.” She ruffled his hair one last time and dragged herself back to her room to get dressed to school.  


Azelma was finishing getting ready, when Eponine walked in. She pulled her thick chestnut hair into a bunch and glared at Eponine in the mirror. Eponine gestured, confused. Had she done something wrong?  


“You alright?”  


“Fine.” Azelma snapped.  


“Yeah, sure, okay. I mean you _sound_ fine.”  


“Doesn’t matter.” She looped her tie over her head and pushed the knot up reasonably near her collar.  


“Ze,” she started, but Azelma shut her off with a cold glare.  
“I’m _fine_. See you at school.” Slinging her bag over her shoulder she strode from the room, calling out another happy birthday to Gavroche before disappearing out of the door.  


Eponine watched her go with a shrug; she had far more pressing matters to worry about that whatever had riled Azelma.  


=  


Gavroche had his eyes glued to the Nintendo screen the entire way to school. His thumbs flew over the buttons as he battled whatever pixelated monsters she’d bought him. More than once she had to throw her arm out to stop him from walking into traffic, each time with a roll of her eyes and a repeated suggestion that maybe playing whilst walking wasn’t such a good idea. Each time her suggestion went ignored.  


He did at least pocket it when she left him at the gates of his primary school. He even let her give him a hug, probably due to residual feelings of gratitude.  


“See you later, yeah? We’ll get pizzas or something,” she grinned, ruffling his hair again and drawing a playful scowl from him.  


“With pepperoni?”  


“With whatever you want,” she promised.  


“Awesome.”  


Sometimes it was hard to remember that he was only ten years old. He was an independent spirit, and he could look after himself better than most people Eponine’s age, for goodness sake. But watching him dart off to meet his friends, messy hair bouncing with each step, hearing his glee over the prospect of pizza, she was reminded of just how young he was. Each time the reminder was accompanied with a shock to the gut.  


He’d never known their life before the council flat. He couldn’t possibly remember what things had been like when her parents had been marginally respectable. And, alright, they’d never been exactly rich, but there had always been enough food, and _heating_ and it was a shame that Gavroche had never experienced what a proper childhood should have been.  


Suddenly she realised what had made Azelma so upset. She had known, she would remember. But she’d been too young to understand why everything had been so cruelly ripped away from them. She would remember what birthdays used to be like, though and what it felt like to be spoiled. Maybe Gavroche had it better not knowing – at least he had nothing to compare it to.  


Eponine made a mental note to speak to Ze, and hoped she could figure out a way to make it up to her.  


=  


“Hey, ‘Ponine!” Courfeyrac bounded over to her as she entered the sixth form common room.  


She grinned at him and flopped into a vacant arm chair. There was still about ten minutes before classes started, enough time to begin catching up on the reading she’d failed to do the night before.  


“What are your plans for this evening?” he asked, sitting himself on the arm of the chair.  


“Pizza and a film,” she shrugged.  


“’Ponine! It’s Friday night,” he bemoaned.  


“Yeah, and it’s also Gav’s birthday.”  


“Even more reason to be doing something awesome!”  


Sometimes she had trouble remembering that Courfeyrac was not in fact ten years old. She just raised her eyebrows at him.  


“Group’s gathering at Jehan’s tonight. You should come.”  


“Yeah, I don’t think so.”  


“Bring Gav – and ‘Zelma. Come on – please?”  


“Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?”  


“Because he’s always up to something,” Grantaire intoned. He joined them in the common room, sat down on the floor and instantly buried his head in his hands. He looked like he might actually have fallen asleep.  


“Courf, if you’ve planned a birthday party –” she warned.  


He’d asked her about it weeks ago, an idea she’s instantly shot down. There was no way she could afford to throw a birthday party, and there was no way she was going to ask anyone to fund one for her.  


He just shook his head, curls bouncing as he did.  


“R? Do you know anything about this ‘gathering’ this evening?”  


Grantaire lifted his head and shrugged. “People are going to Jehan’s. That’s about as much as I know.”  


“If you’re lying to me -”  


Grantaire just laughed. “I value my life too much for that, ‘Ponine,” he smirked, dryly. Eponine could only grimace; she knew exactly how much he valued his life and honestly didn’t find the joke all that funny.  


“Just a gathering,” Courfeyrac promised. “Please come?”  


“Maybe,” she hedged, not convinced by either of them.  


=  


Where they had all hung out before Jehan moved to Eppingswood, none of them could really remember. His house just lent itself to having people over. His mum was working the late shift at the hospital – and honestly wouldn’t mind if he had people ‘round anyway. And there was the abundance of chairs and bean bags and floor cushions in the lounge – and that wasn’t even mentioning the tree house.  


Eponine had made the mistake of mentioning Courfeyrac’s offer to Gavroche, which of course he’d leapt at and which was why they were all stood on Jehan’s doorstep, freezing in the cold. Gavroche was still playing with his Nintendo and Azelma was checking her reflection in the small square of glass in the middle of the door. It turned out all it had taken to dispel Azelma’a bad mood was a free pass to a party that Saturday night, and a promise to buy her a bottle of something to drink. Unlike her and Gavroche, Azelma didn’t seem fazed by drinking, and at least – Eponine reasoned – she could control _what_ she was drinking. Although Eponine suspected her reason for accompanying them this evening had more to do with her crush on Courfeyrac than anything else, but she wasn’t going to bring that up.  


She buzzed the doorbell again, a little concerned at how long it was taking anyone to answer the door. Finally she heard footsteps.  


The door swung open and Courfeyrac grinned at the three of them. It wasn’t unusual for Courfeyrac to be answering someone else’s door.  


“Come in, come in,” he beamed. “Happy Birthday, Gav.”  


Eponine’s eyes narrowed at the sight of his party hat, which Courfeyrac had clearly forgotten he was wearing. She kept quiet though as they followed Courfeyrac through the hallway.  


He threw open the door to lounge and immediately they were met with a blast of chorused ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’s, and toots from party horns. Everyone was wearing a party hat, including Enjolras – which was enough to make Eponine a little impressed, but not too impressed that she didn’t remember to punch Courfeyrac on the arm.  


“You promised,” she hissed into his ear, to which he just shrugged.  


“Sorry,” he beamed, seeming anything but.  


She couldn’t stay mad for very long though. Especially not as Gavroche seemed to be enjoying himself so much.  


“BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!” he was shouting, and punching Bahorel.  


Still, she felt a little guilty. “I can’t pay you back for this,”  


“’Ponine, that’s not –” he shook his head. “This is for Gavroche, okay? And it wasn’t just me. You can blame Grantaire –”  


“He knew! Sneaky little –”  


“And Bahorel, Feuilly – speaking of,”  


Eponine flicked her eyes up to see Feuilly heading towards them. Her stomach began to churn again. Courfeyrac was gone in an instant. She could only scowl after him.  


“Hey,”  


“Thanks for the book,” she told Feuilly, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly very aware of how she was standing, and how awkward it seemed.  


“I hope he likes it. It’s little hard going, but…I liked it, anyway.” He smiled. “Did he like the DS?”  


She nodded, staring over Feuilly’s shoulder, unable to bring herself to make eye contact.  


“I’m glad. Look,” he hesitated. Eponine briefly scanned her eyes across his. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was out of line.”  


She nodded. Still not really up for speaking out it.  


“You were right, I don’t get it. Not really.”  


She frowned up at him. He was studying his hands intently.  


“I mean, it’s only ever been me. And if I go hungry, so what? But you, you have people depending on you. I’ve never had to deal with that. And you’re right, I have no right to judge how you cope with that – and you cope brilliantly, I mean,” he hesitated again, and looked up, crooked smile in place. “It’s amazing what you do really. You don’t get enough credit.”  


She felt colour rush to her cheeks.  


“And honestly, I’m a little impressed – I hate myself for it – but how in the hell do you,” he lowered his voice, “steal a game console? I was up half of last night trying to figure it out.”  


Eponine just grinned. “You have to think outside the box,” she replied softly.  


“Anyway, I,” he smiled nervously. “I hope you can forgive me? I really like you and I –” he inhaled deeply.  


Eponine cut him off with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to the Anon who gave me this prompt - I had fun writing it (even if I'm still a little confused to how it got this long!) and to [ Batusa](http://enjolraspermitsit.tumblr.com/) for checking this through for me. 
> 
> -  
> This is set in my (English) Highscool au, which I've somehow started writing auxiliary drabbles for before I've posted any actually chapters, but oh well :) Actual chapters will be coming soon and you can find more drabbles on my tumblr in the meantime if you're interested.  
> -
> 
> ((I took some liberties with the 'shopping' scene, and really don't know how feasible any of that is.))
> 
> -
> 
> [Tumblr!](http://trenchcoatsandtimetravel.tumblr.com/)


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